


Zayn Callunde: Saviour or Traitor

by sirhin



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-06-25
Updated: 2010-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-10 06:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirhin/pseuds/sirhin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a bout of magic that leaves Dudley paralyzed, four-year-old Harry Potter is left for dead in London by his uncle. Fortunately, he was found and rescued. Unfortunately, he was found and rescued by a gang of vampires. What happens when the saviour of the wizarding world is raised by creatures of the night?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The End of an Era

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first vampire fic! I'm so excited. Anyway, I have not planned any pairings for Harry yet because, well, mostly because he's too young right now but I might later on and if I do, it just might be slash. Also, since this is a vampire fic, there will be violence and there might be some language.
> 
> Originally posted at FanFiction.Net on 16 November 2006.

"Boy! You sit your ungrateful self down right there and don't move," a heavyset man snarled at his nephew, who's wide, emerald eyes were glistening with the sheen of tears. Even so, he knew not to answer so he just sat there, watching his cousin, Dudley, clamber onto the playground set with his parents carefully watching his every move. In the little boy's mind, he still had a hope that his relatives would let him play and while he did, they would diligently watch over him as they did Dudley so as to make sure he didn't slip and fall.

Deep in his heart, though, he knew it wasn't true. He didn't know what he did but the fact was that his only living relatives hated him with every fiber of their being as was apparent ever since he lived there. As he watched his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia try to get Dudley onto the swing even with his wide girth, Harry's tears overflowed and they fell in streams down his cheeks. By this point, he was in despair. He didn't know why they insisted on bringing him to the park when all they would let him do was sit by the car and watch the family have fun. At this time, his aunt and uncle were sitting on a bench conversing, not too far from their beloved son.

In a fit of determination, he scrambled to his feet and made his way to the swing next to his cousin so he could try it out as well. He had never played on a swing set before and it looked so fun! After a few failed attempts to mount the seat, he succeeded, his cheeks flushed with the effort it took. Sparing a quick glance at his aunt and uncle only to find them deeply immersed in whatever they were talking about, he gave a sad sigh as he slumped in the swing. Remembering how other people he had watched swing, he tried to reciprocate and he eventually got the swing to move a foot forward and back and for the first time in his life, he played on the swing set and a smile spread across his face. Unfortunately, the movement of Harry's swing caught the attention of Dudley – and he was not happy.

"Get off!"

Harry shook his head vigourously, his smile slipped off. "No!" Dudley narrowed his little eyes.

"Get off!"

"No!"

With a sense of impending doom, Harry watched his cousin do the one thing that would make this otherwise joyful occasion worse.

"Mummy! Daddy! Boy won't move," the large boy wailed. In what seemed like a second, his parents were there, glaring at their nephew. His mother turned towards him and started to comfort him, while his father stepped menacingly in Harry's direction.

"What is your problem, boy!" he spat out, spittle landing on Harry's face, his eyes wide with horror. "Are you so stupid you can't even follow a simple order? Didn't I tell you to sit down and stay there?"

"Ye—" Before the boy could finish, his uncle clamped a meaty hand around his nephew's thin arm and proceeded to drag him over to the car. At the tight pressure on his arm, Harry cried out in pain.

"Uncle! Let go, let go, let go! Hurts! It hurts!" Harry screamed. For all his effort, his uncle did let go, but what happened afterwards was far from what he wanted.

_SMACK!_

The force of the blow knocked Harry to the ground, a small hand at his stinging, red cheek. A few tears escaped.

"You think crying will do anything?" his uncle sneered. "You deserve this! It was Dudley's swing. No manners you stupid, selfish boy! Just got right on, eh?" Uncle Vernon leaned closer. "This means no food for a week!" With that, he stomped back to his precious Dudley, leaving Harry sniffling on the ground, a bruise-shaped handprint already starting to form.

As he sat there dejectedly for the second time in a day, rubbing his stinging face, he watched Dudley play on the swing again. As if he could sense Harry staring at him, he gave an evil grin and swung higher and higher with him father's help. At that scene, Harry's anger grew.

_I want to play! Why can't I? There is one next to him!_

The Dursley family remained oblivious to him as Harry's thoughts progressed.

_So mean. Why Uncle not let me play? I do nothing!_

Unseen and unnoticed, a wind began to blow across the park and a few stray leaves were swept in the breeze.

_Dudley no deserve!_

By this time, the tree tops were rustling and the birds were flying away from the park in a flurry of feathers. Only Aunt Petunia seemed to see something was amiss and as she glanced over at her nephew, she immediately understood. She called out to her husband in a hurry.

"Vernon! The boy! He's doing his freaky business!"

_I no freak!_

As the wind grew stronger, Vernon Dursley narrowed his piggy eyes at his nephew and he turned to his son to try and stop his ascent—

_My swing!_

But it was too late for with the last thought, a leg of the swing set snapped and Dudley was sent tumbling to the ground from six feet up and he landed with a loud crunch on his back. Immediately afterwards, the wind stopped howling and everything was silent. A second later, a cry was heard as Petunia collapsed next to the still body of her son.

"Dudley! Dudley," she wailed.

Harry was in shock. There was no way he could have done that, but then he was hauled up by the arm. Harry looked up to see a face that sported an unhealthy purple colour glaring right at him. His uncle had a pulsing vein on his forehead and his nostrils were flaring. Harry gulped.

"You." His uncle Vernon started in a low, dangerous voice, and he punctuated the accusing word with a punch to the boy's stomach. Harry would have fallen to the ground in pain if not for the hand still keeping him up. "How dare you do that to Dudley!" This time he let Harry go and kicked him hard, Harry curled up on the ground, coughing as he struggled to breathe around the piercing pain. "I have kept you under my roof for far too long! We're going on a trip that you won't be coming back from!" Harry looked up at his uncle, terribly frightened, as his uncle turned towards his wife. "Pet! I'll be back. I'm taking Potter!"

His wife gave a nod, her eyes red but when she gazed upon her nephew, they hardened in pure hatred. For the past three years that they had kept Harry Potter, she always pleaded that Vernon not give him away. Now, she could care less. The little freak had hurt her Dudley and nothing would change her mind now!

Vernon gripped Harry's shoulder and pulled him to the car. "Get in!"

Harry winced at the lingering pain in his shoulder as he limped to the door and got in as fast as he could. As he slammed the door shut with both hands, the car pulled out of the parking lot with a screech. The trip was silent but you could feel the tension in the air as Vernon was trying his hardest not to strangle his nephew then and there and Harry tried not to pass out as he was driven to his doom. Several hours later, his uncle stopped the car and got out and Harry shut his eyes, his hands clenched into tight fists. The door clicked ominously open and his uncle dragged Harry out of the car and shortly cried out in pain when his shins connected with the curb.

"Lazy, good-for-nothing!" Uncle Vernon muttered, and his hand tightened its grip and he continued to pull his nephew into a dark alley where he dropped him with as small 'oomph' emitting from the boy. Harry struggled to stand up but quickly abandoned the idea when his uncle kicked him in his belly once more. "You deserved to die," his uncle snarled before Harry was given the worst beating that he ever remembered in his short, tragic life.

The next fifteen minutes were broken with the sound of pained cries and the noise of flesh against flesh and the occasional crack of a bone breaking. When the large man was done with what he thought was well-deserved but far from enough, he gave the limp boy one last kick to the chest that gave a loud snap and sent the boy slamming against the wall leaving a bloody spot, he left.

After the boy slid to the ground, his body lay still in a pool of blood that grew with each rattling breath, a stream of the precious liquid escaping through his mouth.

\----------

"Hey! Zira! Ziratra," a feminine voice was heard through the night.

"Vae! Ravaena," a voice called back, mimicking the former voice.

Four tall figures were seen gliding down the deserted street. All of them appeared to be normal at first glance but if you looked at them a bit closer, you could spot the glittering eyes, even with no visible source of light nearby, the sharp nails, the unnatural aura that surrounded them, and the canine teeth that were slightly longer than normal.

They were vampires.

A young woman with black hair and dark blue eyes shook her head exasperatedly, making her straight hair move in shining, tantalizing waves across her back. "Funny, Zira. After two hundred sixty-two—"

"Two hundred sixty-three!"

"—years, that's all you've got for me?" Ravaena continued, ignoring the interruption. Ziratra pouted.

"I'm hungry! You can't fault me when I'm hungry!" Ziratra turned over to a tall man with dark brown hair and dark, intense eyes. "Lirovev! Help me out here!" The man shook his head and smiled.

"Sorry, no can do, Zir." She woman turned her large, pleading eyes to the last member of their group.

"Edarin?"

The said man cleared his throat and glanced around, trying to look for something to distract the vampire with. He felt no need to be included in another one of her pointless arguments.

"Edarin!"

"Uh…"

"Edarin!"

"There's blood near here."

Ziratra growled. "Quit trying to change the subject! You're bad at it, anyway! There is no—"

"No, really. I smell blood." As if to make a point, Edarin sniffed the air audibly. After a minute, everyone turned towards Lirovev. He refrained from rolling his eyes.

"Lets see who it is," he said before he headed towards a narrow alleyway. Ravaena placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Shouldn't we alert the others?"

"No." Lirovev shook his head. "This one's young."

Ravaena looked sad at that but followed her leader and mate, with Edarin and Ziratra close behind.


	2. The Start of Another

The faint light from the moon above the quartet barely illuminated the sight before them, but it was more than enough for the sharp eyes of a creature of the night.

"What happened," Ravaena whispered, imploring to whoever was listening to answer, referring to the sad image of the beaten boy before her. A boy who looked barely over the age of three. Arms encircled her and she could smell the scent of jasmine. "Zira?" she murmured softly to the smaller female.

"He's so small."

Ravaena blinked away her tears. "Yeah." Her voice wavered faintly and she cleared her throat. "Come on, let's see what's wrong with him." She gently extricated herself from the embrace and slowly led the younger vampire to the boy. Lirovev was already there and had turned the boy on his back to study him more closely.

It was still a dreadful sight, if not more so.

The face was swollen and bloodied and his nose seemed to be broken and was still bleeding sluggishly, with a shock of dark hair matted with dried blood and dirt framing the thin, abused face. An arm lay at an odd angle at his side and so did his legs, with a bone protruding from his upper, left thigh. What looked to have the most damage was his chest as that was where most of the bleeding originated from. Ravaena knelt down and unsheathing her claw-like nails, she cut the boy's soaked shirt open to expose even more blood and an even more grotesque image. Almost every rib that the boy had appeared to be broken and several ends jutted out of the skin painfully, the sharp, red-tinted shards glistening sinisterly in the sparse light. Below that, the skin of his stomach was a hideous pattern of reds, blues, and purples. The boy was breathing shallowly and a slight rattle could be heard; he was barely alive. Even so, he still had a chance, no matter how small it was. Ravaena took a deep breath and looked at Lirovev with pleading eyes.

"We have to take him home." He nodded after a moment, his face blank of all emotions.

"Lets go, I'll take him."

"Remember not to jostle him much, Liro," Ziratra said softly, her eyes were red from crying and reddish tears were still leaking from her eyes. Lirovev nodded in reply. He knew not to say much. Even though Ziratra was one of the best in their line of work in the world of assassinating, she still had a soft heart, especially after her little brother was killed several decades before in a short-lived vampire hunt that spread across the continent that was lead by the so-called Light side. It ended in England, after Ziratra went into a killing rage shortly after her beloved brother's death. It didn't help that this boy had similar features to the deceased vampire.

The now somber group left the alley at a fast pace, appearing to mortals as four dark blurs, towards their sprawling underground home in a race against mortality.

\----------

A low groan was heard coming from the centre of the large bed. Ziratra practically leaped from her chair to check up on her charge. Leaning over the bed, she was met by a pair of bright emerald eyes that seemed to squint a little at her with curiosity, but once she looked deeper, she could see a flicker of sadness, anger, and surprise. She smiled at the boy who looked so much like her brother, even though he needed to gain some weight and needed to quit doing that thing with his eyes. Hopefully, he would like her. Maybe the thing he did with his eyes was a sign of nervousness.

"Hi, little one. How are you?" she asked softly. The little boy blinked his adorable eyes and gave a tentative smile.

"I'm okay. Where?" At the prompt response, she smiled, encouraged. It had been two long weeks since they had taken him here and she was starting to think that he was never going to wake. It was an odd thought for a vampire most of whom were used to waiting, but Ziratra was still like a child at times, always impatient.

"You're in my home, under London." He cocked his head to the side, an endearing look that made her chuckle.

"London?" Her eyebrows furrowed for a second. She had originally thought he was from London since they had found him there.

"Oh yes, a big city in England. Where are you from, little one?" His eyes narrowed a little a thought before answering.

"Sur… rey." He replied slowly before asking, "Little one?"

"Little one." Ziratra confirmed. "You're my little one." She paused. "But Surrey is so far away! How did you get here?"

A flash of anger and sadness crossed his face, looking alien on the little boy. "Uncle. Drop me here. Hurt."At the hidden message behind what he said, Ziratra's eyes flashed red before returning to her normal light, verdant tones, the meaning behind the strange emotions suddenly clear. At the change of expression on her face, though, the little boy shivered in fear. He liked the lady and he hope she wasn't like his uncle. "I like you. You no hurt me?" At the slight fear present in his voice, Ziratra leaned over and kissed his forehead reassuringly. Her gaze lingered on the famous scar for a moment before answering.

"Oh no." She forced a smile, which was hard to do when she thought of the monster that had beaten the boy so thoroughly. "Would you like to stay here?" The boy nodded his head, a grin splitting his face.

"Family?"

Ziratra laughed. "Big family." At that, the boy's grin got even wider. "What's your name, little one?"

"Harry Potter." She nodded a little to herself.

"Harry Potter, my name is Ziratra Callunde, but you can call me Zira."

"Zee-rah-trah Cal-loond. Zee-rah," he repeated. "Big family?"

She nodded. "Want to meet some of them? There's eighteen in all."

"Yes!" Harry practically squealed. She gave a laugh at the enthusiasm.

"Stay right here, all right, Harry?" Harry's happy expression fell.

"Don't leave me."

Her heart cried out to the little boy. "I promise, I won't." He nodded and she raced out of the hall to find some people to introduce the boy to.

'_Even though he is the boy-who-lived, he isn't that bad_, she thought with a grin. _Now, if only he doesn't have the same ideals as his parents did._' She shook her head at the thought. '_We're his family now. He's my little brother._'

IOI

A pair of green eyes squinted at Ziratra's back and the little boy sighed, while waiting for the nice lady to come back. He had never really met anyone as nice as she was and he hoped that the rest of her family was just as kind. Snuggling back in his covers, he smiled. Harry liked it here and he hoped they would let him live here. He didn't want to go back to his uncle and aunt.

At that last thought, Zira bounded through the door with six people at her heels, some of them peering over and around her to look at the new addition to the family while others were staring at the bouncing woman with amusement and ill-concealed exasperation.

Harry laughed and pointed at her. "Silly!" A tall, sandy-haired man towards the back snorted and he stepped forward.

"Hello. I'm Yurik."

"Yoo-rick." Yurik grinned at the pronounciation. Ziratra was right, he is rather adorable.

"Hi! I'm Eteir," a dark-haired vampire said, his violet eyes sparkling happily.

"Et-teeer."

"My name's Lirovev."

"Lee-roh-vef."

"Lirovev," Lirovev corrected.

"Lee-roh-vef." Harry tried again.

"Lirovev!" he said once more a little exasperated as he heard his family sniggering at him from behind.

"Lee-roh-VEF." With that, everyone exploded into laughter with Ziratra being the loudest. Harry looked at his hands and turned red. "It's not right?"

Lirovev grinned after he finished glaring at everyone else. "No, it's all right. You can call me Lirovef." He rolled his eyes at the name.

"Okay, Lee-roh-vef."

"My name's Ravaena."

"Rah-vay-nah." Harry glanced around to see if this was correct but when it seemed that he pronounced it fine, he let out a sigh of relief. Everyone present saw the glances and heard the sigh and they all knew that little Harry would fit in just fine.

"Name's Asiila."

"Ah-sI-lah."

"My name's Darren."

"Dare-rhun."

With the last introduction, Ziratra scooped Harry up and out of the bed and all but shouted, "Welcome to the family!" Harry laughed delightedly before he winced in pain; his chest was still a tad sore. Ziratra saw and she felt a pang of sorrow and worry. "Ahh.. sorry, sorry," she said as she set him down again, a sheepish smile on her face, her hands fluttering over him. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?" Harry looked puzzled for a moment before he smiled reassuringly and shook his head.

"I'm fine." He turned to the audience who were looking entertained and trained his gaze on the one who looked the oldest. "Daddy Lee-roh-vef?" The vampire's eyebrows shot up at the words the little boy addressed him with. Everyone seemed to wait on how he replied. He cleared him throat.

"Yes."

Harry turned to Ravaena. "Mummy?" With a smile, 'Mummy Ravaena' nodded. He turned to everyone else. "Bruzzers? Sisters?" At all of the nods coming from everyone, Harry finally felt happy and content with his life and new home. "I no need go back to Dursleys?"

"Dursleys?"

"My aunt, uncle, and cousin." A sad expression crossed his face. "They mean. They hurt." Lirovev made a note to remember the name 'Dursleys' for future reference before he answered.

"No. You belong here now."

"Okay." Harry yawned. "I like family. There more, right?" Ravaena nodded.

"Yes. You'll see them after you go back to sleep." Harry looked a little down at that, but he nodded and settled down. Everyone came over and kissed him goodnight before they left. Ravaena was the last one to leave and as she did, she saw the sweet picture of Harry asleep with a smile lingering on his face.

_My son…_


	3. Through the Years

_One Year Later, 5_

"What is four plus six?"

The little boy pouted. "We've been going at this for hours!"

Darren scoffed. "It's only been thirty minutes and we've only just started going over your maths work and this is merely review!"

"Darren…" Harry carried out his name in a sing-song voice. "it's been hours!"

"Minutes," the brunette vampire replied.

"Hours," the ebony-haired child insisted. Darren swallowed a growl.

"Minutes."

"Hours!"

"Minutes!"

"Hours." The little boy crossed his arms and glared at the floor.

"Fine! Hours! This still doesn't make a difference!" he threw up his arms in frustration at the stubborn human child before him. "What is four plus six?" Harry seemed to think about it before answering.

"Hmm… four plus six."

"Yes, that's what I said."

"No, silly! The answer is 'four plus six'!" Darren groaned.

"Okay, I give up. We're moving onto history."

Harry brightened considerably at that and Darren shook his head. He's lucky he's so adorable… and the fact that I would have seventeen vampires on my back if anything were to happen to him.

"So where were we last time?"

"I think we were on the Vampire-Wizard Conflict in 1617."

"Right… right. So, it started when a wizard named Archibald Clogg" Harry snickered at the odd name. "got into a dispute with a vampire named Archimedes—"

"Why are the names so weird?" Darren raised an eyebrow at the question.

"I suppose that's because most vampires change their names after they are Turned, but then, this was a long time ago so this Archimedes was probably his real name." Harry's mouth was in an 'o' shape.

"So… how come you don't have a weird name like Lirovev?" Darren snorted.

"Uh, well, I think that's his real name as well. He's kind of old, you see."

"I see. So the older you are, the weirder your name is?"

"I suppose you could put it that way," Darren allowed.

"So you're young?"

"Well, sort of, but I never wanted to change my name in the first place. I never felt the need to. Most vampires who are Turned usually led troubling lives and they want to keep away from it." Darren looked thoughtful as his mind tried to process the amount of information he had been given.

"So why don't I have a weird name?" Darren looked decidedly uncomfortable at that and cursed his luck for being the one to tutor the inquisitive boy that day.

"Well, you're not a vampire but I guess you could change your name if you wanted."

"Will I be one?"

"Maybe. I'm not completely sure. I suppose, if you wanted to."

"Oh, okay. I want to wait. The red stuff you drink is stinky."

Darren laughed. "You get used to it real soon." Harry shrugged.

"I guess." He looked at Darren with a look on his face that he knew all too well.

"Ask the question, Harry," Darren said, resigned.

"How do you figure out your names?"

"Each family is different and some don't change their names, but ours happen to have a… unique way. We pick ours by drawing a name from—" he stopped at the blank look he was getting from his charge. He tried to explain again. "Drawing is when you put a bunch of names on pieces of parchment into a bowl or container and someone closes their eyes and pick a slip of parchment up. Basically, what ever name you pull out will be yours, or something like it. That is sort of why we have weird names if you choose to change it. Everyone in the family puts in one name they like so, in your case, you have a one-in-eighteen chance. Of course, if you already know what you want to change it into, you won't have to do that. Hm… like you know Armen?"

"'Course! He's like you!" Darren nodded his head.

"Yes, he can't do magic. Well, he was raised in the muggle world, as I did, but he loved a book series called Lord of the Rings and there's a girl elf in it named Arwen. Well, Armen liked it so much that he changed her name to a more… manly name, I suppose."

Harry giggled. "So, what happened with the vampire and the wizard?"

"Hm… like I said, they had an argument over the price of the bat wings Archibald needed for a potion and Archimedes was not a negotiable vampire…"

\-----------

_One Year Later, 6_

Two emerald eyes peered around the corner to see what the angry voices were.

"Darion! What are you saying?" Ravaena, Harry's adoptive mother, asked in a deceptively calm voice to a tall, regal-looking vampire, though her eyes belied the shock and disbelief she was feeling.

"I'm merely suggesting that someone get rid of the humans who did this to us," the vampire replied. "It is not a big deal for you, surely?"

"No, it is not, and I would gladly do so but you must remember that if we do this, the entire village would be wiped out – not just a couple." Harry puzzled over the information and he made a note to ask his mum when she was done.

Darion raised an eyebrow. "And…?"

"We'll be found out! Have you lived so long that you have forgotten that we can die! We are grossly outnumbered by the humans!"

Darion snarled at the accusation. "No, Ravaena! I haven't forgotten but they killed my mate! They deserve it!" She sighed.

"I understand. I'll see what I can do. We can get the leader of the village and if you know who killed your mate, then we'll do so."

Darion gave a curt nod. "Thank you," he intoned softly before he swept past the hallway. "By the way, your child was listening." Hearing that, Harry's eyes widened and he made to get out of firing range before his mother got to him.

"I know."

Harry gulped and stopped. When he felt his mother's hand resting on his shoulder, he slowly turned his face up to her but what he saw thoroughly surprised him: his mum was smiling. Just to make sure though, he asked, "Uh… so am I in trouble, mother?" A sad look fleetingly passed Ravaena's face before she shook her head.

"No. I had to tell you something about it anyway and it's about time that I did, though I wish I needn't. Come, little one. Let us go to my room." She took her hand from her son's shoulder and headed towards her room with Harry following at her heels. When they finally got there, Harry climbed onto the bed decked out with royal blue silk covers and his mother sat down gracefully beside him. He looked at his hands and glanced around the elegantly decorated room before looking at his mother.

Ravaena smiled as her son fidgeted. "Now don't do that. It's a bad habit to have and a Callunde cannot go around fidgeting, can they?" Harry gave a smile at that. Even though he was born a Potter, he considered himself a Callunde, even though it was not official. Even with how much he loved his family, he didn't think he was ready to become a vampire just yet.

"No, mum," he mumbled. At the raised eyebrow on his mother's face, he straightened up. "No, mum," he said more clearly. She nodded, pleased. She held out her arms to her only child.

"Come over here, Harry." She waited until after he climbed onto her lap. "You know what we are, correct?" Harry nodded.

"Vampires."

"Yes, dear." She paused. "And do you know how we work?" Harry looked confused at that.

"What do you mean, mum?"

"Do you know the politics behind it? The leaders? How our clans work?"

"No, mum. I don't think so." Ravaena brightened up.

"Well, then! Let me tell you." She waited for his consent and attention before she continued. "As you know, each clan is basically a family, sometimes outsiders call us a 'gang'. At the head is usually the oldest member but besides that, we have no ranks. In the Callunde clan, our head is Lirovev, as you know." Harry nodded. "Well, the only thing he does different is that he goes to a meeting with the heads of the twenty-seven other clans in England every twenty years. A family grows as people are Turned by the head or by members of the family. Even so, the families grow slowly as we cannot just Turn anyone. There are laws on this like how you can only Turn someone if we have their consent and a member of Britain's Vampiric Council's approval or if the person is dying, etcetera. There are more but you will get to them over the next year while you do your schooling. These are merely the basics."

"All the clans over the world are friendly and we live in peace, as we have a kinship with one another. This is mainly because there are so many mortals out there and we have to stick together. Vampires are actually one of the wealthiest races in the world because of our long lives and because using the way we get money… we make a lot more at a time." Ravaena looked at Harry who gazed up at her in anticipation. She smiled and continued, though this time more slowly. "Each clan has their own profession. Their own work that they do. You know the Gregorovitch's in Bulgaria? Their family is in the wand-making business. Not many people know of their race though. They keep that a very well-hidden secret. Also, the clan that you meet a lot, the Berring clan? They specialize in producing weaponry for both the muggle and magical worlds." Ravaena stopped.

"What about us, mum?" The smile she gave was a little strained.

"We… we specialize in ridding the world of people." Harry frowned.

"I don't understand."

"Harry, our family deals with… killing people. For money." His eyes widened as he realized what his mother was trying to tell him. He turned sorrowful eyes to her.

"But why? Was that was you were talking about to the Darion man?"

Ravaena looked straight ahead; she felt no need to look at her son's innocent eyes that were pleading with her, confused. Even with his past life, he was still a child. "Yes," she whispered. "It is our family's job. We are one of the best, but we don't kill everyone. We kill, yes, but not everyone. We also choose which assignment to take and we compromise. We are not mindless murderers. We only kill when provoked, but when a vampire does kill needlessly, he gets severely punished. We only kill for the well-being of the vampires. Our race."

"Mum?" She looked down at her son's sad eyes. "But I'm human too. Will you kill me?" Ravaena's eyes widened in horror.

"Oh no, Harry. No vampire would ever harm you. You are a Callunde and, perhaps, one day if you want to be Turned, you will, but you are still my baby." Tears of happiness slipped down his cheeks as he buried his face in his mother's chest.

"Love you, mum."

Ravaena smiled. "Love you too, dear." With that, she looked upon the head of messy raven locks and hoped that once Harry was old enough to truly understand, he wouldn't shun them like so many other humans. Humans like his parents.

She could not bear it if he did.

Even so, she knew he needed to know the truth. She made a note to make sure Harry knew the story about his parents. Hopefully, he would make the choice to stay with them.

\-----------

_Two Years Later, 8_

Lirovev dodged a stunner from a wizard while cursing his luck under his breath. Another spell lanced by him, missing him by mere inches. He growled as he looked around to make sure his family was as safe as the situation allowed. He was thankful that the newly turned eight-year-old was back home; Harry's birthday was the day before and they had had a large birthday party in his honour. While he was distracted with looking after his family, a curse opened a gash in his arm. Spinning around, he snarled at the wizard who looked frightened out of his mind. Lirovev pounced on the poor man and with a vicious swipe of his claws, a spray of blood, and a faint gurgle, the man lay still upon the blood-stained ground.

He moved onto the next human that was threatening his family and grinned sinisterly as he continued to fight back, for the sake of his clan.

Twenty minutes later, a high-pitched shriek pierced through the night and Lirovev spun around only to meet Ziratra's pain-filled eyes. She had been impaled straight through the heart. The battleground froze for a moment watching her fall to the ground in a slow arc. Lirovev swallowed hard and used a good deal of his self control to keep himself where he was. People died when they got too emotional on the battlefield.

A second later, he heard another shriek, but this one of anger and the light sounds of footsteps rounded around the corner to show Harry, his eyes burning in rage at the sight of his sister being felled by a human. Lirovev's heart fell and he ignored his earlier thought. He ran forward to intercept his adopted son and crushed him to his chest.

"Harry! Get out of here! You can't be here?" The little boy's body was wracked with sobs.

"They- they k-killed her!" Lirovev ran a hand down Harry's back, trying to soothe him as the battle around them picked up in intensity.

"Shh… I know. I'll get them for you, all right?"

"No!" Harry screamed. "I'll kill—"

At that surprising exclamation, Lirovev gasped. "No! Harry, no. Get out of here! I don't want you to get hurt." He glanced at his mate to see her looked at them sadly before she moved on to the next human. "Harry? Listen to me." He set Harry down and knelt before him, keeping an eye around him even though several vampires had made a circle around him to give him some protection. He could see that the vampires were getting the upper hand and suppressed a faint smile; this was not the time. Lirovev placed his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Listen. Run to that corner over there and back home. I don't want you to stop until you get there, understand? Here, Ahkren will go with you." Harry looked at him with red eyes and sniffled.

"Yes, father." He nodded his head and he was swept into a hug before he was placed into Akren's arms. Lirovev exhaled a sigh of relief when he saw the pair disappear around the corner and he went back to the battle.

As Lirovev was in the action of snapping a human's neck, Ravaena ran up to him, her eyes searching the area frantically as the remaining humans attempted to flee before the vampires got them.

"Where's Harry? Where's my son?" Lirovev gave his mate a puzzled look.

"I sent him back with Ahkren. Why?"

"Where? Which way did they take?" Lirovev started getting worried; his mate was hyperventilating. Out of all of his years, he had never seen Ravaena hyperventilate, especially since vampires had no need for breathing in the first place. He pointed a finger in the direction he sent them.

"There. I pointed them at the least direct path. Is something wrong? Ravaena?" His mate has clasped her hand over her mouth, whispering "no" over and over again. "Ravaena!" She snapped her eyes back at him.

"I heard someone say there was back-up down there. For the humans." His eyes widened.

"Oh, shit." He grabbed Ravaena's hand and took off in the direction he sent his son in all but name. He could hear the vampires behind them. In minutes, they could hear threatening voices, harsh breathing, and the rush of blood through veins. Lirovev's veins went cold. Rounding the corner, they saw a sight no one wanted to see – ever. Ahkren and Harry were surrounded by a large group of wizards, all with their wands trained on them and they were not unscathed. Harry had a nasty cut above his right eye and he seemed to be favoring his left leg. Ahkren was worse off, however, as he was on the ground, still and unmoving. At the faint sound of the vampires arriving, Harry turned towards them, his face white with fright and full of desperation.

"Daddy!"

Half of the humans turned their heads to see who 'daddy' was and as they recognized him, they all seemed to reach a similar decision. The vampires saw the change in stance and they ran full out towards the boy who tried doing the same, but before he could, he was caught and held to the chest of a wizard, a gleaming knife was held above him before it plunged deep into the boy's chest. Harry's eyes widened in shock and pain and a trickle of blood escaped through his lips. Blood spurted from his chest as the knife was yanked out of the small, fragile body and Harry fell to the ground in a pool of rapidly growing blood.

The sound of the body hitting the floor seemed to spur everyone to action as vampires tore into humans in a desperate need to get to Harry. In two minutes, the humans were obliterated and Ravaena ran to Harry and pulled him into her arms while everyone else stood around them in silence. No one said anything. No one had to.

"Harry… Harry. Come back to mummy. Please," she pleaded to the boy. In her panic, she didn't realize he was still breathing, raggedly and irregularly, but still breathing.

"Mum," a small voice was heard. Everyone's eyes trained on the pale figure on the ground. "Mum." Harry coughed and a stream of blood followed. Ravaena wiped the blood from the boy's face with her thumb. "Love you." His eyes fluttered as he struggled to stay awake. He took in another laboured breath.

"Shh, little one." She turned her face to her mate, her eyes asking a silent question, but was obvious to all. Lirovev gave an almost imperceptible nod. Ravaena turned back to her little baby. "Harry. Harry?"

Eyes fluttered open, revealing glazed, green eyes. "Hmm."

"How would you like to be a Callunde… forever?" Harry merely smiled before eyes fluttered shut once more.

"Like v'ry much, mum."

At that, Ravaena unsheathed her fangs and lowered her mouth to her son's white neck and gently bit down, the sweet taste of blood filled her mouth as she drank.

Five minutes later, Harry was lying in her arms, pale as the moon, his chest still.

Harry was officially a vampire and a Callunde.

\-----------

_One Month Later_

"Okay, Harry. You know what to do, right?" The boy nodded his head vigourously.

"Can I pick now?"

Eteir laughed; he had gotten close to the little boy when Ziratra had died. With Eteir's ready smile and laughter, he quickly got to the mourning boy and the two had a similar relationship that Harry had had with Ziratra. Of course, in no way was he a replacement, he was just a new brother and best friend. "Oh, I don't know. We could do this tomorrow…"

"You wouldn't dare!" Eteir grinned at the boy.

"Joking! Just joking!"

Harry turned to his parents and pouted. "Can I pick now?"

Ravaena and Lirovev smiled at their precious son. "Of course! Now where did we put the bowl…" Lirovev shrugged and looked around and the rest of the family searched for the elusive bowl.

"Found it!" A petite vampire named Jade called out. She held out a bowl from which strips of parchment could be seen.

The bowl was passed along to the boy who was grinning like the Cheshire cat. Eteir held out the bowl to him after he had re-scrambled the names.

"Now close your eyes and reach in!" Harry's hand grasped blindly for the bowl before it was placed into it. A tongue stuck out between his lips as he felt through the parchment.

"NOW!" someone shouted. Startled, Harry's hand, already clutching a piece of parchment carrying a name on it, jerked out of the bowl. Harry opened his eyes and scowled.

"I wasn't ready yet!"

Lirovev smiled. "You know the rules. Now, let us see what your name is!"

Peering onto the slip of parchment, he saw the name "Zane" written in a neat script.

"Zane?" He looked up at the expectant faces. Gabriel whooped.

"Yes! He got mine!" The vampire beside him snorted and elbowed him hard. Meanwhile, Ravaena studied her son's face.

"You don't like it?"

The whooping stopped.

Harry, now Zane, shrugged. "I like it. It's just… something." Ravaena smiled and nodded.

"How about Zayn?" Harry stared at her, along with everyone else. "Z-a-y-n. It means graceful in Arabic." Harry smiled.

"Zayn…" he tried out. "I like it. It's… different, but not really." Gabriel huffed, but Zayn ignored him.

Lirovev came up to the boy and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"May I present to you, Zayn Callunde of the Callunde Clan."

The introduction was met by whistles and cheering. Harry stood there, his face beaming with pride.

Zayn Callunde, he thought to himself. Yes, I like it a lot.

\-----------

_Three Years Later, 11_

Zayn jogged after his father's long strides.

"Father, what is going on?" Lirovev glanced back at his son before slowing down a little.

"There has been a new… occurrence and I need to see to it." Zayn furrowed his eyebrows.

"What is happening," he repeated. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to meet with the Council. This is an emergency." Lirovev stopped and turned around, looking down at his son fondly. "I'll be back soon and when I come back, then we'll talk, okay? I'm in a hurry right now."

Zayn gave a sigh. "Yes, father."

"Good boy." He smiled. "Or if you want, you can ask anyone else here and they'll tell you." Zayn gave his dad a bright smile and a quick hug before rushing off to find someone to ask his questions to.

"Bye! I'll see you when you get back," he called over his shoulder, his smartly cut robes flaring out behind him majestically. Lirovev chuckled at his young heir and he headed back on his way.

Zayn raced down the tiled hall, his boots clicking sharply against the ground, as he scanned the pathway for any signs of his family. Grinning, he saw Eteir walking down the hallway.

"Eteir! Oi! Eteir!" The said man turned around, an eyebrow raised.

"What would Lirovev and Ravaena say to that?" Zayn rolled his eyes.

"Oh shut it. They're not here right now, anyway. Plus, I have something to ask you!"

A smile tugged at Eteir's lips. "Oh really? What is it that is so important that has you screaming down a hallway in a manner unbefitting of—" He cut himself off at the glare his foster brother was giving him. "Oh, all right. What is it?"

"Well, why is everyone in a hurry today? I asked father and he said he was going to an emergency Council meeting. He told me to ask someone else." He looked at Eteir with large, pleading eyes. "Will you tell me?"

Eteir almost snorted at the innocent look his baby brother was sporting. Zayn was far from innocent. In fact, he went on his first assignment for the family a mere three months before and had excelled at it. Little Zayn was looking to be one of the most sought after assassins the family had to offer and Eteir was rather proud of the burgeoning heir, even when he lapsed back into shouting at people in the hallways. He smirked.

"Oh, I suppose so." Eteir reached over and ruffled Zayn's messy locks which received a glare for his effort. "Well, lets go to the library, shall we?" The pair walked together a little ways down the hallway and turned into a large, majestic room filled with numerous tomes of all shapes and sizes containing all sorts of information covering the walls from top to bottom. A set of carved, wooden stairs led the way to the floors above that held even more tomes. Sitting down on a pair of leather armchairs before the fireplace, Zayn looked at Eteir impatiently.

"Well?"

"What do you mean 'well'?" Zayn shot him a look that clearly said 'you know' and Eteir refrained from rolling his eyes. "Okay, this is rather hard but it has to do with the Dark Lord."

"The man who killed the Potters, you mean." Eteir gave a quick nod.

"He has come back and… he's asking the vampires in the United Kingdom to take a side – his side." Zayn did not look surprised in the least. In truth, he knew it was bound to happen sooner or later.

"All right, what are we going to do?"

Eteir sighed. "Zayn, there is no easy way to say this but there is a large chance that we might side with him."

"I know, and I don't care. I will fight for him if need be." Eteir's eyebrows rose into his hairline.

"Are you sure that is what you'll support?"

Zayn nodded solemnly. "I will follow my family – and I only have one family. The humans have hurt me, us. They deserve it." Eteir gazed at his brother's face, trying to figure out what he was thinking about, but it was useless. Zayn's face was in a blank mask he had perfected in order to hide his emotions. It was a useful trick in many situations, especially as the heir to one of the most powerful and dangerous vampire clans in Europe. At this point, though, Eteir wished Zayn didn't know how to use it, or at least at this time. Giving up, he asked his question.

"What about James and Lily Potter?" There was a pregnant pause as both vampires stared into the flickering flames, making eerie shadows dance on their faces and on the walls.

"What about them? They may have given life to me but they never raised me." He looked at his feet. "As for the Dark Lord, he may have taken them away from me and left me to rot at the Dursleys' but you guys gave me so much more. I will fight for Voldemort if that is what the Councils choose, until Voldemort starts to turn on us." At the concluding sentence, a smile spread across Eteir's face.

"I didn't think you would catch that."

Zayn gave a laugh. "With all of the political and history lessons father has put me through, how could I miss it?"

"Hm… true enough. So, as a pop quiz, why do you think this?" The eleven-year-old vampire shrugged.

"The Dark Lord is powerful and ambitious, all trademark of Slytherin, and like the house, he would go through any means to get what he wanted. In order to fight the Light, he would need powerful allies and in order to get them, he would need to make many promises, much of which he would not be able – or he would not want to – keep, once he wins. I think he is not to be trusted long-term."

Eteir nodded in agreement. "You are right. You know, you are going to be a great vampire one day."

Zayn flashed a cheeky grin at him and winked. "Why thanks, Eteir! I had great role models."

"And don't you forget it," he laughed. "Do you have any other questions or can I go do my important work?" Zayn snorted and Eteir swore he heard Zayn mutter something like "important my arse", which is promptly ignored, and he lifted his chin up arrogantly. Zayn shook his head at his brother's antics.

"Actually, I do have one more question."

"Yes?"

"Why would the council want to join if we know that Voldemort will not support us if he wins?"

"I'm not really sure myself. You would have to ask Lirovev, but I think it has mostly to do with what you said before. It's to get back at the people who harmed us with no reason and only because they think we kill for fun." Eteir sneered the last words. "Bloody humans; they're the murderers. Hm… I also believe the fact that a majority of the people who shun us are Light wizards. This is just a way to get back at them with help."

Zayn nodded to himself and the two settled down, pondering the recent conversation.

\-----------

_One Year Later, 12_

Zayn stood tall and proud, dressed in an expensive ensemble in preparation to meet the Dark Lord for the first time with his father as well as the other clan heads and their heirs. He straightened his deep green silk robes that were lined with silver and gold thread and checked to make sure that his hair was not unnecessarily messy; he had given up trying to tame the beast. Clearing his throat, he gave a weak smile at his slightly hazy reflection in the mirror, a small price to pay to being a vampire. Even with the lightly blurred image, he knew he looked perfect. The color in the robes brought out his sparkling, emerald eyes even more and made his fair skin even paler. He looked every bit the part of a Callunde heir, deceptively beautiful – yet deadly. Straightening his stance once more, he placed his mask on, placed a glamour over his infamous scar with a wave of his hand, and turned around and walked out the door to his father's study where his parents and most of his family were waiting.

It turned out that he didn't need to go that far. In fact, his mother was right outside his door, waiting for him and when he was completely out of the door, he was embraced in a tight hug.

"Mmph. Mum! I just fixed my clothes!" He hurriedly checked to see if his robes were perfect and looked up to see his mother's eyes sparkling in amusement.

"You're so handsome!" Zayn looked at the floor in embarrassment as he heard his numerous sisters giggle.

"Mother!"

"Ravaena, you know not to upset—"

"I'm not upset," Zayn interjected but was ignored.

"but you know how sensitive" Zayn growled. "he is to things like that." Lirovev turned to face his son, his feature betraying none of his emotions, which were currently having a blast at embarrassing his son. "Oh, Zayn. You know I was only joking. Now let us go." He placed a hand on his son's shoulders before nodding to everyone.

"Now you take care, dear!" Ravaena called out.

Zayn groaned.

Lirovev let out a booming laugh. "You know she just cares for you." As they approached the stairs the led them out into a tattoo and piercing parlour and into the world above. Father and son slipped quietly through the store and out the door into the night air. "Now, hold on tight and remember to not show your emotions. You'll be fine."

Zayn nodded and with a small 'pop', the pair disappeared and reappeared in a dark, foreboding room made entirely of cold concrete and occupied by several people, most of whom were vampires, but Zayn could sense that at least five were human Death Eaters and there was Voldemort himself. Zayn took a deep breath, braced himself, and stepped forward, respectfully behind his father and little to the right.

As they made themselves known, the small crowd parted for them to let them in and the meeting began.

"Welcome, my alliesss." Voldemort started with a serpentine hiss, his crimson eyes in his inhuman face studied all those before him and with a wave of his wand, a large, circular conference table appeared. "Pleasse, sssit." With the occasional sound of a chair against the concrete floor, everyone was seated, with the heirs standing behind them. The Death Eaters that were present were stationed on the wall behind their lord. "Over the passt monthsss, we have made a lot of progresss between usss. We are on our way to victory!" Voldemort surveyed everyone with proud eyes and as his gaze passed over Zayn, he had to bite his tongue from crying out; his scar had given a burst of pain that was quite unexpected. To everyone, however, he appeared to be the ever impassive heir with only a slight thinning of his lips to hint at what had happened.

Lirovev stiffened slightly in his chair when he saw the Dark Lord's eyes linger on his son for too long. Maybe this was a bad idea. Zayn must have seen his father tense up for he leaned forward a little and murmured, "It's all right." Standing up straight once more, he saw that Voldemort's eyes were once again on him. He swallowed the panic threatening to swallow him whole and he forced his gaze to meet those of the Dark Lord's. Several emotions crossed Voldemort's face and Zayn knew he would not like what came out of it.

"Lirovev Callunde." Lirovev's hands clenched together.

"Lord Voldemort."

"Your heir isss not your sson, is he?" The vampires present braced themselves, for they knew exactly who Zayn was. It was no secret among the vampires.

"No," Lirovev forced through clenched teeth.

Voldemort inclined his head slightly to look at the heir. "You look so much like your parents." Zayn's jaw worked before he could answer politely.

"My father is standing right here. I would much appreciate it if you would stop insinuating that I had other parents, sir." To everyone's surprise and horror, Voldemort gave a high-pitched laugh.

"Lirovev, you have raised him well." He turned back to Zayn. "I will look forward to working with you young… Zayn." Zayn gave a nod at the compliment of sorts and the meeting continued, this time with no comments on anyone's biological parents.

Even so, Zayn was tense for the duration of it.

\-----------

_Two Years Later, 14_

A dark figure crept along the wall in a large house belonging to a certain Longbottom family. Zayn never really paid much attention to who his assignment was, only what it was and on this one, he was under orders from the Dark Lord himself; he could not fail. He had scoped out the area for a week before choosing this day for the family was out for the day so he could get in without notice and with minimal risks. Darren, Loren, and Armen, the three non-magic vampires in his clan helped him out as they were experts at breaking in and surveillance and they had somehow obtained the blueprints of the place. Zayn glanced around a corner to look upon an empty tastefully furnished parlour and he silently passed it to spot the stairs. Climbing the steps, he arrived in a hallway. He knew that there were five bedrooms on this floor, three to the left and two to the right.

The Longbottom boy's room was the last one on the right.

Zayn crossed the hallway and through the already open doorway into a fairly large room that was painted in a pale blue. The furnishings were simple, there was a table with a writing set atop it, a queen-sized bed was set against the wall, a bookcase was against the opposite wall, and a trunk that had the initials N.L. inscribed upon it was up against the bed. Two doors led out of the room into the bathroom and a closet. Checking the time, he realized he still had an hour left before what remained of the once prominent family was expected home so he sat down besides that door and relaxed and waited.

_Croak._

Opening one eye, Zayn spied a toad sitting before him. He raised an eyebrow. Reaching over he scooped up the creature and pet its head.

_Croak-croak._

Zayn smirked. So, Dumbledore's Golden Boy has a pet toad. He shook his head in amusement as he continued to pet the toad. Too bad I didn't accept the invitation. I would have loved to torment the boy. Indeed, Zayn did receive an invitation to Hogwarts, but he declined and chose to stay with his family. Even so, he knew he wasn't missing much with what the friends he had made through Death Eater gatherings told him.

Suddenly, the toad leaped out of his hands and into the hallway. Straining his ears, Zayn could hear faint footsteps and a heartbeat and he cursed his stupidity. Leaping up, he stood beside the doorway, ready to pounce and when the boy took a step into his room, he did. With one quick movement, he had the Longbottom boy's neck snapped. He stood over the still body for a moment, listening for a non-existent heartbeat. He spotted the toad sitting beside his dead master and with a quirk of his lips, Zayn bent over, petted its head, and said, "Thank you, Toad."

_Croak._

Zayn shook his head. He very much doubted that the animal knew exactly what he helped do. Zayn proceeded down the stairs and heard someone humming in the kitchen that was directly in front of the stairs. In a glance, he could see the elderly Longbottom unpacking groceries and noiselessly slipped into the room and behind her.

"Hullo, Mrs. Longbottom."

The lady spun around rather impressively for her age and her eyes widened at the strange, man before her. The man smiled, showing his sharp canines and she screamed out for help – but before she could do anything else, a flash of green light flew towards her and she knew no more.

Leaving the house, he drew out his wand and shouted 'Morsmordre', leaving an ominous warning to those around Longbottom Manor and he apparated back home, content with a day's work done and earning several thousand galleons for the family and a step closer to being Voldemort's right-hand man.


	4. Death and the Proposition

_October 1997_

The dark corridor was dusty and seemed to be devoid of life. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust and even the candelabras on the walls no longer lit automatically, as if being out of use for such a long time, they had given up of the prospect of ever lighting up for passersby ever again. The closest used classroom was a ten minute walk away through more cold and dark corridors and the Slytherin entrance was on the other side of the dungeons. All in honesty, the hallways in that section of the dungeons haven't been regularly traveled through for decades so that even the ever diligent house elves had stopped cleaning the area long ago.

All of these characteristics made it a perfect place for snogging in private – and that was exactly what a certain red-haired young lady and a dark-haired young man was doing right that second. Snogging. Suddenly, their lips were no longer attached to the other when the pair remembered that they needed to breathe, and as if they had never stopped, they continued – and with more passion. In fact, they were so immersed in their activities that they never noticed that there were people just around the corner until they heard them.

"So what did you say happened?" An obviously male voice cut through the couple's thoughts that were steadily heating up – until that moment, that is. The two jumped apart and pressed their backs into the wall with their hands entwined in an effort to hide from the unexpected intruders, which did nothing much since you could barely see your feet, never mind people in a corridor five feet away.

"I told you, Zabini, all in time," another voice replied coolly. "I don't want anyone to overhear us."

"But no one's here! No one's been here for ages according to that horrid, damp, musty smell." This time, the voice, Zabini's voice, if you will, held a tone of underlying disgust.

"You can never be too sure, though," a new voice replied. This one was cold and calculating, though also obviously male.

"Indeed."

While that was happening, the couple was waiting for the voices to continue speaking and so they could resume their activities. Meanwhile, however, they were trying to figure out who the people were in the first place and though they haven't spoken their thoughts aloud to each other, they unknowingly came to the same conclusion: the Slytherins were up to something. They had no idea how right they were – and how much danger they were in.

"Malfoy –"

The girl sucked in a breath and buried her face into her boyfriend's shoulder in order to prevent her from making anymore noise. _Malfoy! What was Malfoy up to? Maybe this could be something they could use against him_, she thought frantically, though with nervous anticipation.

"Zabini!" Malfoy's voice interrupted sharply. "_You_ are the one who wants to know. No one here is obligated to tell you anything – so first, you had better tell us what you want to know and why you want to know what it is you want to know." An angry growl was heard until there was a spoken response.

"You already know—"

"Humour us," that same cold voice cut through. Zabini huffed a bit before forcing out a reply.

"As you both know, my family is neutral." There was a grunt of assent. "I just want to get a feel of what is going on."

"So basically, you are living up to being a Slytherin and are currently, shall we say, testing out the waters?"

"Yes, that would do it."

"And why should we tell you? What do we have to gain from it?" There was a short pause, then—

"You could gain an ally. A supporter if you will."

There was a longer pause this time and a series of whispers.

"So what do you already know?" There was the sound of a breath being released before an answer arrived.

"Not much. I only know what everyone knows from the Prophet. I know that the Light is taking a beating, even though the articles don't it say outright. I know a majority of the Dark creatures have joined the Dark Lord and that Light supporters are getting picked off one by one." At that, the girl squeezed her eyes shut in pain and several tears leaked through. She received a reassuring squeeze of the hand in turn and bucked up. "It's not much, but I want to know what's behind all the success of the Dark Lord. I want to know the details. I want to know what exactly is going on behind the scenes."

"So you decided to go to us."

"Yes." There was an amused 'hmmm'.

"Well, Zabini, I have to say that I am not surprised. It's a smart thing for you to do. Unfortunately, there isn't much I can tell you—"

"But—"

"But," the voice continued, a bit louder than before, "we'll tell you what we can. Nott?"

"What you said was correct – but it's only the tip of the sword. Of course, the bloody Ministry wouldn't want it to leak out even more on how utterly pathetic they are. Using our resources, we have disabled our opposition considerably. The Vampires, Werewolves, and Giants are on our side, with the few rogue exceptions, though the Centaurs stubbornly insist on being neutral. Especially with the death of that Longbottom boy at the hands of one of our allies, the vanguard of the Light, the Light's morale has diminished considerably, though they are far from having given up hope. Also, we have people occupying choice positions throughout the wizarding world." There was a moment of silence. "Honestly, we're both treading on a fine line since what we have, they have an equivalent of sorts in return, and though we have the upper hand and probably will for quite a while, one lucky move on their side could help them substantially."

"I think the road that the Dark Lord has paved will be the right one to take, what with Dumbledore losing the two people who had a chance to defeat the Dark Lord, if you go by the prophecy rumour that went around a few years back, it seems like we will prevail." A series of a harsh laughter filled the air.

"He lost them, all right."

"Huh?"

"Longbottom's dead. However, the Potter kid is still alive – if you could really call it that—"

Suddenly, two loud gasps of surprise could be heard and though twin sounds of hands slapping over their mouths could be heard a split second later, it was too late. Swift footsteps came and the two sprinted out of the hallway in an attempt to escape, but they were easily detained and cornered. The grey eyes of Draco Malfoy peered malevolently out from behind strands of his fine, blond hair and a smile stretched across his face.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't a bird and its slut of a weasel." The girl's face flushed a deep red in anger while the boy opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, searching for a proper comeback but finding none. "This is fortunate – for me, at least – meeting here." A tall Nott with brown hair took a step forward, a strange glint in his eye.

"I agree." Within half a second after that, the two Slytherins had their wands out and pointed at the two, while Zabini stood at the back, watching interestedly at what would happen next, with a hand on his wand – just in case. He was Slytherin, after all.

"Weasel, Boot." Malfoy nodded to each of them. "It was nice knowing you two, but, alas, what you heard is not to be spoken to anyone." He gave a thin smile and with an almost imperceptible incline of his head, twin beams of an emerald green lanced to the pair, leaving behind two bodies with eyes forever staring, their hands still clasped together. "Isn't that sweet? Together till the end. Come on, Zabini. We shall have to continue this another time and don't even think of letting slip what you learned today, or else their deaths" Malfoy waved a hand at the bodies. "will resemble your ending very soon – though yours would no doubt be a whole lot more messier and painful." Nott looked at the bodies indifferently and with a flick of his wand, they were set ablaze and the three walked calmly away from the distinctly foul stench of burning flesh and hair, the flames painting flickering reds and oranges on the walls and ceiling. Zabini nodded at the implied threat.

"I have no intentions of betraying your trust."

"You make sure of that."

As the three Slytherins rounded around the corner, the candelabras along the corridor simultaneously lit up as if for a silent vigil to two young lives lost.

\----------

_1 Week Later_

Emerald green eyes blinked once as they studied his reflection in the mirror. Content with his appearance and with only a swift movement to straighten his black velvet robes once more, he nodded and stepped towards the door. Striding swiftly through the hallway lined with majestic paintings with a floor of lacquered oak so shiny that one would see their own reflection in it as if it was a proper mirror, Zayn Callunde, the seventeen year old heir of the Callunde clan was on his way to yet another meeting with the Dark Lord Voldemort. Even with the prospect of meeting with the dreaded, self-proclaimed Dark Lord, Zayn only felt excitement at what the meeting would bring, as the summons had not put into detail what it would be about and he finally had something to do.

Finally reaching the heavy, wood doors to the outside, he walked to the apparition point to apparate to the Headquarters of Voldemort, which he secretly referred to as the Place of Death, otherwise known as POD. A faint smile graced his face at the thought of Voldemort's expression if he knew that one of his most trusted outside of his precious Inner Circle referred to his headquarters as "The POD", which didn't even sound remotely menacing in any way. Concentrating, Zayn felt the very uncomfortable feeling of being squeezed through a small tube, the trademark feeling of apparating and something he would probably never get used to, no matter how long he lived. Within moments, he was at his destination and was greeted by three hooded figures who bowed respectfully to him.

Zayn straightened his robes once again and nodded to each of them in turn, then strode towards the front doors to a large estate that resembled more like a picture of a Victorian era Estate, rather than one in the late twentieth century. The doors opened for him once he reached them and he stepped in. Immediately, a cowering house elf appeared at his side and bowed low, his thin nose touching the floor before he stood up again.

"Good evening, Young Master Callunde. Master is waiting in his study. Please follow Rinnel." Zayn only raised one eyebrow and with a nod to the elf who he safely assumed was "Rinnel", as he never really saw the same elf greet him at The POD, and followed the little creature deeper into the mansion. Several minutes later, they arrived before a set of doors with winding snakes carved beautifully into the frame and with a bow, Rinnel left with a crack. Zayn raised an eyebrow in amusement and knocked on the door three times.

"Come in, Zayn."

With that, Zayn pushed open the doors to reveal a study that was equipped in floor to ceiling bookshelves, a large desk with only an ink pot on it, a large leather chair behind it, and a number of rather comfortable looking chairs before the desk. He raised his eyebrows at that and looked to Voldemort.

"My Lord," he greeted with a slight incline of his head. "Are you expecting visitors?" A corner of possibly the most feared being in the wizarding world twitched in amusement.

"Shortly." He waved a shockingly pale hand at a chair. "Please, sit. I have a proposition for you." Zayn mentally cheered at that and gladly took a seat, as he really didn't have much to do over the past two weeks and was itching for something – anything – to keep from eternal boredom.

"A proposition…?" he prompted. He received a nod in response.

"Would you be willing to get rid of a certain fool for me?" Voldemort asked casually, even though it really was more of an order. After all, who would dare say no to him, even if it was the proud heir to the Callunde clan?

"Which fool? There are many in this world." Voldemort threw back his head and laughed, the chilling sound seemed to go on for ages. Zayn allowed himself a small smile before his usual blank mask returned and patiently waited for an answer. Voldemort eventually stopped and surveyed the young vampire with a calculating glint in his eye.

"Cornelius Fudge." Zayn smiled.

"Gladly." Voldemort seemed to study him once more before nodding, as if he approved of what he saw.

"Ten thousand galleons?" Zayn nodded in approval after a second of deliberation. After all, it didn't really take much thought as this was the most he was ever offered. "This leads me to the second purpose for this meeting."

"Oh?"

"You are very efficient and are fast becoming one of my most trusted." There was a pause. "I have decided to change a little in how you usually carry out your job." At that, Zayn mentally frowned but his words betrayed none of his thoughts.

"What would be… changed?"

"I would like to have some of my Death Eaters involved as well." Intrigued, Zayn waited for the man to continue. "It will be a test of some sort to see if you get along with the next generation of Death Eaters."

"Does this have a purpose?" Voldemort gave a single nod.

"I am considering letting you into my Inner Circle." Zayn's eyes widened slightly at the admission. "I need to see how effectively you handle my people."

"I see."

"Are you up to it?" Voldemort posed the question as a challenge, his crimson eyes darkened dangerously.

"Yes," came the simple reply.

And as if it was rehearsed, the doors opened moments after his reply to reveal seven figures in Death Eater garb. By their stature, Zayn surmised and confirmed that he would be working with people around his age. Outwardly, Zayn appeared to not feel any emotion, inside, however, he was mentally rubbing his hands together with glee.

_Oh, this'll be fun!_

\----------

_Later That Night_

Albus Dumbledore was pacing in his office, his face was showing his years and his normally twinkling eyes were dull with fatigue. _What has this world come to, when evil conquers good?_ He raised his hand to massage his temples and proceeded to sit down. The entire staff was notified almost a week ago that Ginny Weasley and her boyfriend, Terry Boot, were missing and had been missing – and no one found them until that night. In fact, they only found them, or, rather, _evidence_ of their time there when they enlisted the help of the house elves with their own special brand of magic. Truthfully, all that was left was a smattering of ashes mixed in with the dust with bleached, white bones. All in all, you could barely tell the difference between the ashes and the dust, besides the fact that the wall near the scattered ashes was scorched black as if from a fire. What honestly stuck with him, though, was the heartbreaking image of the remains of two hands held together, fingers entwined for all eternity.

And as if things couldn't get any worse, no one knew the people behind it, though he had his suspicions, but he couldn't act upon them without any solid evidence – of which he had none. All he had was a collection of ash and bones with no witnesses to the deaths and a school full of shocked and mourning students. He sighed and buried his face in his hands. _And young Miss Weasley had such potential!_

At the sound of his magical doorbell, he raised his head a bit to glare at the door. Shaking his head, he reached into his drawer and pulled out a small tin container. Opening it, a number of round, yellow sweets twinkled in the light. Smiling slightly, the aging man picked one up and popped it into his mouth.

Almost immediately, his eyes grew lighter again with a hint of his old, trademark twinkle as he straightened up just in time for the door to bang open, revealing a mass of red headed people, with Molly Weasley leading them, her eyes red, swollen, and still streaming tears, a wet handkerchief in one hand, the other clenched with determination at her side, the rest of her family resembling her in varying stages of grief, sadness, remorse, and anger.

_Thank Merlin for lemon drops_, he thought before he braced himself for the fury of the fiery matriarch of the Weasley family.


	5. The Downside of Being Feared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind that my Lord Voldemort is a bit more rational so please don't complain to me about him being blatantly OOC. I tried putting a bit of humor in here as well – but it will soon get darker, so the rating may change.

Zayn Callunde stood up as the seven figures entered the room. His blank eyes studied them for signs of nervousness and any other type of weakness. He was rather confident that he knew who the seven were, the problem was that they did not get to know each other well enough with their schooling and his duties. From what he knew of them, however, he was sure they were competent enough. The only issue they would have to overcome was trust, and it was a hard obstacle to overcome, especially with Slytherins and with someone of his own past and his considerable lack of socializing skills with people his own age.

By now, the small group of robed Death Eaters had completely entered the room and stopped before their Lord and the Heir. They all took a bow before standing up straight as befit their status as Purebloods and waited for a response. Lord Voldemort stood up from behind his desk and strode forward only to stop beside Zayn. He gazed upon them for a moment before speaking.

"I had a proposition with Zayn." He paused, gauging there reactions. There were none. "It involves everyone here. I will leave the details for Zayn to relay and from now until further notice, you take your orders from him, after me." With one more sweep of his eyes to his followers, he nodded once at Zayn and gestured towards the available chairs before sweeping out the door. Once the doors closed with a gentle click, Zayn looked over his own followers, to an extent, and possible allies, if not friends, in the future. He was not that surprised that Voldemort had decided to let him use his own study to conduct the first meeting. The Dark Lord had probably casted a spell in there that recorded everything that went on.

Zayn decided to test the Death Eaters and get a feel of their stance on the change of events.

"Well, everyone here heard the Dark Lord. Please sit. There's no need to be uncomfortable during this," Zayn started, taking his own advice. "Also, it would be nice if I could see who I'm speaking with…?" He raised an expectant eyebrow. At that, the figures in front of him cautiously reached up to let down their hoods. Zayn allowed a smile to appear on his face briefly, after all he had an image to uphold; his original assumption had been correct.

"Thank you," he acknowledged their compliance. "I am Zayn Callunde, Heir to the Callunde Clan. My family is the one that has been doing the deed, if you will. I usually work alone, but due to the insistence of the Dark Lord, we are to work together this once. I'm sure we all met before, though we haven't really gotten to know each other much. This really is quite a nice opportunity for me. I have been waiting for this moment for quite a while." He slowly studied the faces one by one to see their reactions.

"Ah – Master Callunde," a rather stoutly-built girl cautiously spoke out.

"Zayn," Zayn corrected.

"Zayn, then," she amended. "What would we be doing? Oh, and I'm Millicent Bulstrode." Zayn smiled. The hurdle was broached at last.

"Millicent." He nodded to her. "Seeing as I just received this idea, I would need to plan out something before I tell you what it is that we would be doing, wouldn't you agree?" The girl flushed a bit in embarrassment. Zayn raised an eyebrow with that and looked at everyone else. Honestly, no one seemed up for opening up. "What I do know, however, is that my assignment would be Fudge." There was finally a response to that and Zayn grinned outright. Actually, it was more like a series of responses. The other girl squeaked, Millicent's eyebrows shot up, three of the five males' jaws had dropped while the remaining two merely widened their eyes. "Finally! I was wondering if everyone had been petrified!" The other girl's face, who he believed was a certain Pansy Parkinson, held a small smile at that, though the others remained generally impassive.

"One thing's for sure, with such an… _important_ figure to get rid of, I will be the one doing the killing." At the last word, his audience flinched, though he swore he heard someone release a breath in relief. He hid a smile as it confirmed his original suspicion of how none of them had gone on one of Voldemort's infamous raids quite yet. "Everyone here will be helping each other and in doing so, we have to have a semblance of camaraderie, agreed?" There were a series of nods in reply, though several were done hesitantly. Zayn mentally gave out a loud sigh of frustration. This is going to take a while, he couldn't help but think before he tried to subtly get the males in the group to at least say something. "So we are in agreement." Again, he was met by stares, though accompanied with nods of the head. Suddenly, his patience snapped.

"SO WHY ISN'T ANYONE SAYING ANYTHING?" The seven people before him jumped and stared at him in shock. "_Finally!_ I had thought that the Dark Lord had sent me mutes." One of the males looked offended at that, but Zayn shrugged it off. They deserved it, seeing how long they kept quiet and appeared to stay that way. "Seeing as how the Dark Lord did not as of yet give me a deadline, though I should have some sort of plan by tomorrow, I thought we could get to know each other a little better." Again, he was met with silence. Zayn narrowed his eyes as they flickered red with annoyance. "NOW!"

The group scrambled to sit up and they all started talking at once, though with the innate grace of purebloods. Even so, it was obvious they were flustered and even – afraid? Yes, they were afraid of him and what he might do to them. He supposed that being the extension of the Dark Lord might have the effect, but it was something that had to go – or at least when it came to himself. He didn't want mindless minions under him, after all.

Zayn mentally sighed and refrained from banging his head against the wall as he noticed several eyes flick to him every so often. _I really have got to get my people skills together._

\----------

"Can you believe it?" The young heir was raving at his foster brother in all but blood, Eteir. His arms were waving madly about and his eyes were wide with incredulity. The elder vampire being ranted at was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed looking highly amused. "When they finally started to talk, they would only talk with themselves! That's no way to trust me – why would they need to speak with each other anyway? They bloody _grew up_ with one another!" He suddenly stopped and glared at Eteir. "You're not helping me."

The said vampire widened his eyes in fake innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about," he sniffed. "I'm supporting you silently." Zayn growled and threw up his hands once again.

"What should I do to get them to open up to me? It's not as if I'm that intimidating or anything. I'm their age!" At that, Zayn heard a snort emit from Eteir. "What?," he snapped.

"As amusing as listening to you rave about the miniature Death Eaters and how they wouldn't talk to you, I have to point out something rather obvious that even the Oh-So-Powerful-and-All-Knowing Zayn Callunde hasn't realized yet." Another glare was aimed at Eteir once more. "Oh don't do that or your face will stay permanently that way." There was a soft growl in response, which was also promptly ignored. "Even though you're the same age as them, you're also infinitely different and on an entirely different level. You're the heir to an incredibly respectable vampiric clan, you're fast becoming Voldemort's right hand man – vampire, I mean – and you have a distinct aura about you that practically screams 'death!' Not to mention the fact that you seem to be chummy with their Lord and that doesn't make you seem like the best person to cross or get along with."

"But I'm just a normal person and I am not _chummy_ with Voldemort," Zayn protested.

"To you, maybe, but to them, you're someone to be respected and admired from afar. It may be too dangerous for them to get to know you more, besides as merely their leader and, at most, a comrade. In addition to that, humans are naturally our prey – it's natural that they feel this way." At Zayn's downtrodden expression, Eteir sighed. "Time is all it will take. Spend more time with them and subtly let them know you. Even so, remember to keep your instincts about you. You may be in Voldemort's good graces, but that means that many out there in his ranks will be out for your position and I also don't trust Voldemort's motives." Harry sighed, though he looked distinctly less depressed.

"All right." Eteir grinned and strode towards the Heir and ruffled his hair affectionately before speeding away from the volatile Zayn and his striking distance. Zayn glared half-heartedly at his brother before sauntering off to his rooms to think through what Eteir had said.

\----------

Miniature images of a meeting gone wrong reflected in crimson eyes, currently light with amusement. The Dark Lord Voldemort was replaying the first meet between the Callunde heir and a few of his followers and he had found it a great form of entertainment. As a matter of fact, this was the fifth time he had replayed it and he still hadn't tired of it. The small figure of Zayn Callunde seemed to be frustrated and at the limit of his tolerance, if his facial expression was anything to go by, whereas the other members were talking animatedly with one another, their faces white with what he could only guess was desperation and fear, a consequence of their pureblood upbringing and the obligatory mask. Voldemort let out a string of laughter from the irony of it all, something that would have chilled anyone near enough to hear it. He leaned back into his leather-backed chair and laced his long fingers together.

He originally never thought he would ever let the young heir – and in another life time, most possibly the bane of his life – have so much power, but he did. The young man was a great asset to his side and securely held a majority of the vampires over as well. He also made great company and, as he had experienced, was a marvelous form of entertainment. No, he would keep the Callunde by his side by any means. It would be a great blow to him and his Death Eaters to have anything else happen to destroy it – especially if the Light found out the truth. For now, he had the upper hand and he had no intentions of handing it over.

Letting his eyes fall to the translucent sphere that showed glowing green eyes before going out, he made a note to do something about the new Death Eaters and their blatant fear of Zayn as it was making the mission go nowhere. Making a quick decision, he called out for one of his most trusted followers, even if he only did so out of fear, and the little miscreant scurried in the room as quickly as he could, groveling before Voldemort.

Voldemort sneered down at the cowering figure. "Stand up, Wormtail!" The figure got to his feet, though not much of a difference in height occurred, and bowed once more before speaking.

"Y- yes, Master," a quivering voice inquired from within the dark cowls of his hood. The fear emanating from the coward was thick enough to taste.

"Come forward, you imbecile!" Voldemort hissed, his eyes flashing in annoyance. Wormtail rushed forward, tripping once on his robes. Voldemort stood up and looked down upon him in disgust. He snatched his follower's left arm and pulled up the sleeve, uncovering the Mark. With a malevolent grin, he pressed his thumb onto it, eliciting a high-pitched scream.

It was time he had a little talk with his newest followers. By the time he was done with them, they all walked as quickly as they could towards the exit with one thought going through their minds: Be more friendly and open to the Heir – or else.

None of them wanted to know what their Lord had up his sleeve to fulfill the "or else" portion of his order.

\----------

A frustrated face reflected in a silver framed mirror. As the face sighed, a lock of midnight black hair fluttered before coming to a rest once more between two emerald eyes. Zayn Callunde scowled at his reflection before burrowing into his arms.

_It was utterly ridiculous_, he thought, _that he could kill people without a thought, but when it came to having a descent conversation with someone in his age range – or even getting a sentence out from someone else – he was at a loss_. He had been sitting at his desk and mulling over ideas on how to get everyone cooperating with him for the past three hours and he still hadn't gotten anything worthwhile. The only thing he gained from the time alone was one heck of a headache and a parchment full of random doodles. With another sigh – and a 'you mustn't do that too much' from the mirror – he sat up, reached for a fresh scroll of parchment and inked his quill before he proceeded on staring at the parchment, his mind temporarily putting aside how to get along with his charges and moving onto a plan.

Before he so much as put his quill on the parchment, an insistent tapping noise emitted from his window. Glancing up, he spotted the Dark Lord's crimson-eyed Raven and he got up to let it in. The large bird flew in and perched on Zayn's chair, his long claws slicing deep into the upholstery as Zayn scowled at the bird and shooed it off. This time the bird perched on Zayn's shoulder, his claws digging rather painfully into his flesh. With a wince, he untied the missive and the bird promptly flew out the window with a lingering caw. He surveyed his damaged furniture and with a wave of his hand, repaired it, before he sat down.

The letter was done in a thick, black parchment, and it was addressed to him in an elegant spidery hand in silver ink. It was sealed with a deep red wax branded with the Dark Mark. Zayn's eyes furrowed as he figured out why Voldemort would write a letter to him now. He hadn't expected anything for days. With a shrug, he slid a sharp nail through the seal and felt the odd tingle of an identification charm before he opened it. More of the spidery handwriting greeted him and he perused it.

_Young Master Zayn,_

I hope this finds you well. The reason for this was to reassure you that you shall have no more problems pertaining to my followers and their lack of obedience. The next time you shall meet together shall be more productive, I trust. If this is not so, do not hesitate to inform me and the situation will be rectified.

LV

By the time Zayn had finished reading the message, his eyes were sparkling in amusement and he found himself wondering how he had rectified the "lack of obedience" in his followers. As soon as he thought that last thought, he decided he really didn't want to know. With a laugh, he made to sit down and go through his plans with a lighter load than before, but before he could, a series of taps were heard from his window yet again. Raising his eyebrows, he strode to the window to open the window for the second time in five minutes to let in a regal Eagle Owl.

This time, Zayn could help it and began to laugh loudly, clutching his stomach with one hand while supporting himself with the other hand on his desk.

He knew for a fact that that particular owl belonged to a certain Malfoy and he couldn't wait to see what he had to say.


	6. Unexpected

When Draco Malfoy was summoned by the Dark Lord two days previously, he had been prepared for anything. After all, his own father had risen up in the Death Eaters' ranks within a short period of time during the Dark Lord's first reign, his godfather was also high up in Death Eater society as well as well as a trusted spy, and his Aunt Bellatrix was one of the Dark Lord's most loyal followers. In fact, in addition to a majority of his family members, his closest friends had family within Death Eater ranks as well. He had heard stories and had witnessed the Dark Lord's wrath first hand when his father came back from the meetings in more recent years. There was even one time when his curiosity overrode common sense and he sneaked into his father's study to take a peek in his pensieve in order to figure out what exactly happened during his nightly rounds.

The knowledge that Draco was so immersed in these facts and knew he would undoubtedly get crucio'd multiple times along with many other painful and potentially humiliating things when he joined Lord Voldemort was engrained in his mind, as well as his manners. He was not to look him straight in the eye. He was not to speak unless he was spoken to – and if that happened, it must be quick and to the point. He was not to do anything unless it was asked of him. In fact, he was to be little more than a mindless, obedient slave to the Dark Lord.

No, he had joined the Dark Lord's forces not because he was irreparably stupid. He had joined because he agreed with the ideals Lord Voldemort upheld – and the fact that he valued his life. Even though the methods were not very conventional, they were successful and the senile Albus Dumbledore's ideal of openly sharing one's less-than-perfect ancestry was no longer the norm. Now, when people were asked, it was with great care that they answered. To be fair, the powerful and widely-feared wizard did have morals and he only punished people when they did something against what he asked for – unfortunately, what he wanted was pure perfection and anything less than that was a major transgression in his eyes.

This was perhaps the reason why he was utterly confused, and being confused, in itself, was confusing, for even after all the preparation that he had gone through, he had been unprepared for what the Dark Lord had decided to throw at him: Zayn Callunde.

It was not what he had in mind when the Dark Lord has summoned them; he had been more-than-surprised when they were to meet in his own study and meet with the young vampire. In all honesty, the young man was not what Draco had in mind. He had pictured a well-bred young man, yes, but he did not expect to find one who had experienced and did what he did to act as amiable as the person he had encountered. It had frankly taken him off guard. Even though the emerald eyes were shadowed, they were open and friendly. His alabaster skin was perfect and unmarred, hiding the fact that he had killed countless others in cold blood. His countenance appeared to be prideful, but at the same time, it was obvious he was eager and curious; such child-like emotions. His every move was calculated to even the smiles he showed – and it was amazing he had smiled at all – but at other times, his demeanor was remarkably unguarded. In short, Zayn Callunde, the heir of the Callunde clan and one of the Dark Lord's top men, if you could call him as such, was a walking contradiction.

It was quite perplexing, to say the least.

It was of little consolation that his friends seemed to be affected in the same way. After all, they were the best of the best. What irked Draco the most was that he himself was caught off guard. He was a Malfoy! Even though the vampire had every right to merit such a reaction from him, he had no right to make him display it out like a bloody Gryffindor, always wearing their hearts on their sleeves. It was outrageous – preposterous – but undeniably true.

And what's more, but the fact that his position as a Death Eater made it mandatory for him to obey his Lord's commands and he had commanded him to obey the vampire. From the second time they were summoned, it just hammered in the well-known fact that he – they – did not do their duty well. It was barely a month that he was initiated into the ranks, something he had highly anticipated, and they were severely reprimanded. Although it wasn't as harsh as he had suspected – something involving a round of crucio's or two and maybe something incredibly demeaning to round it off – the memory of it still stung. And so, he was spurred on by his friends to do something about it and it had resulted in a rather spontaneous and reckless action on his part.

He had written a letter to the Heir.

Even though it was a decision rather unlike him, he had meticulously contemplated, examined, and double-guessed himself while writing that letter. The stationary parchment used was the finest and he made sure there was not even one spec nor crease marring the surface. He carefully inked his quill and blotted out the words and he made sure that his script was absolutely flawless. The tone of the letter was formal, but cordial at the same time – but most importantly, it specifically demonstrated his willingness to cooperate. All in all, it took almost three full hours and five drafts before it met his high standards, but he was still apprehensive. The main reason for this was because it was almost a full day since he sent it with the fastest owl the Malfoy family owned and she had returned a full hour before without a reply.

He did not know what to think. Perhaps he had somehow managed to offend the young Master in some way. It was also a possibility he was conversing with the Dark Lord right that moment, discussing his punishment. It –

His frantic musings were cut off by a series of measured taps at the window and he involuntary took in a sharp breath of air. In his surprise and slight sense of shock, he sat there for a little longer, recognizing the dark silhouette of a rather ominous-looking owl. It seemed to sense his gaze and it gave a series of sharp pecks at the window once more. Draco made an attempt at composing himself before heading over to the window to let in the owl. As the creature swooped in, it landed on his spotless desk and proceeded to glare at him, as if to say "finally!"

Draco stepped forward and freed the letter from its leg and it immediately left through the window – though not without cuffing him on the ear with the tip of its wing unnecessarily hard. Normally, this would spark a sense of outrage in him, but he was still, his eyes glued on the letter. At first glance, it appeared to be a Howler – but there were many obvious differences. The most evident one was the fact that it wasn't smoking in any way, shape, or form, nor had it blown up in his face screaming.

The parchment was a deep crimson, perhaps a shade reminiscent of the blood of many the sender had spilt and the reason he was alive, and the wax seal was the deepest of black so unfathomable that Draco could barely make out the seal pressed into it – two daggers crossed together with what looked like a drop of some sort of liquid, most possibly, blood, in between. He slowly broke the seal, bracing himself for the rather annoying tingle of some sort of identifying spell, but found none. Eyebrows furrowed, he finished opening it, finding a short message in an elegant cursive complete with curlicues from more olden times flowing in a silver ink.

_Draco –_

I thank you for your letter and gladly accept your proposal to acquaint ourselves with one another. Please do spread the word.

Zayn

Reading the missive, Draco couldn't help but feel slightly wronged at the single sentence his three-hours worth of work had wrought. Staring at the words swimming across his vision, he made his way back to his desk and speculated on how to prepare himself better on his next encounter with this… Zayn, while writing out separate notes to his friends to inform them of the news.

After all, they were to meet the next day.

\----------

The door was slowly pushed open enough until a pair of deep sapphire eyes could be seen, glinting in the dim light emitting from an ornate silver lamp on a table strewn with parchment. A young man no older than seventeen years sat before it and his head appeared to be supported by a hand while the other was writing something on another sheet of parchment. A soft sigh reached the observer's sensitive ears and a small frown marred the beautiful face.

Ravaena Callunde was of great beauty in her own time and now, 377 years after she was Turned at the young age of fifteen, it was no different. If anything, her features that marked her as merely beautiful when she was mortal were enhanced and made her breathtaking. Eyes of such a stunning blue caught people's attention with just a glance and full, red lips framed a mouth of straight, white teeth. High cheekbones and a perfectly straight nose belied her aristocratic blood. Silky hair framed her face and flowed down to her waist in waves and was of such a shade of black that it appeared to reflect light and suck it in at the same time. Even though she was almost four centuries old, she had only physically aged six years, but in all her years, she had never imagined that she would acquire someone who she would love as a son. In truth, she had abandoned the idea after she was informed that vampires were unable to bear nor sire children, so when a certain green-eyed babe entered her life, she was ecstatic.

Unfortunately, living a life such as his, he did not have the same experiences as other children his age had. He was wanted in the wizarding world as a saviour and in the muggle world, the only family that took him in was one that would beat him to death. He needed to be kept safe from either sides, not to mention from the old Death Eaters who evaded being jailed in Azkaban or given the Dementor's Kiss. As the boy grew up, he became a source of light in the Clan, one that was much needed in their line of work. He was schooled by the best, always got what he wanted as long as it was reasonable, and learned how to protect himself through various means. In short, he was as pampered and learned as the wizarding world's purebloods with one main difference: he was also taught to kill as easily as it was to breathe.

She knew the way he was brought up was somewhat contradictory. After all, she had originally kept him in order to shelter him from the outside world, but instead, he was trained as an assassin. She also knew that there would be some drawbacks and it finally came back to taunt her. In all of Zayn's years, he had had little interaction with kids his own age. There was no time for it, and the one time he did speak to one, the human had been scared off. She remembered when her son came running back to her in tears. It broke her heart, but there wasn't much she could do to mend it. After that, the boy had abandoned thoughts of being normal when he realized just how impossible it was and he threw himself in his schooling and training. He was the perfect son, but sometimes, Ravaena couldn't help but wish to see him do something childish and come home to find something broken and a Zayn beside it stubbornly denying he had done it. Honestly, it wasn't a great surprise that he turned out this way with his background where he was punished harshly for doing something that was his fault, to becoming a member of a vampiric clan where being reserved and calculative was a necessity for survival.

Now, he was seventeen years of age and instead of doing things like hanging out with his friends, he was plotting out a plan in order to assassinate Britain's Minister of Magic and worrying over matters such as casually speaking to people in his own age range. That was actually the reason why she decided to visit her son that morning. Eteir had come to her the night before and told her about the state her son was in and how he was literally going crazy because of such a simple thing. It was worrisome. As another sigh cut through the room, she decided to get to what she had in mind and gave three, quick knocks to the door. Before she even advanced two steps into the room, Zayn was already facing her, shoulders tense and eyes blank, before he recognized his adoptive mother and relaxed.

"Mother," he greeted formally. The matriarch of the clan mentally brushed away the feeling of sadness before mustering up a smile.

"There's no need for such formalities." She sat down on the neighboring bed and motioned towards the spot beside her. "Please sit. I have something of importance to speak to you of." Zayn silently obeyed and turned his eyes to her, waiting to see what she had to say. At such a close distance, Ravaena noticed the dark circles forming under his eyes. "Have you been getting enough sleep?"

Zayn smiled. "Enough."

"'Enough' is apparently not enough." He just 'hmmm'ed in reply.

"What is it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

"What time are your friends coming?" She asked instead of answering him. A small frown crossed her son's face before he answered.

"They will be here at one." Then he added, as if an afterthought, "And they aren't quite my friends. They are more like my subordinates."

"I see." Blue eyes caught his before she continued. "And would you like that relationship to change?" Green eyes widened slightly as he realized where the conversation was heading towards.

"Eteir spoke to you, didn't he?"

"Yes. He came to me last night."

"He wasn't supposed to spread it. I just wanted to rant at him. I can deal with it myself."

"Perhaps," she allowed. "But apparently not very well." Zayn remained silent. "Do you know why when it comes to matters such as this, you are uncomfortable?"

"I have an idea."

"Would you care to elaborate?"

Zayn appeared to swallow down something he had originally planned to say before opening his mouth again. "I'm just too different. I don't know why I'm still trying when I get a chance."

"It's a normal reaction."

"If you say so."

"I do." She surveyed her child before she continued. "So what methods did you use when trying to get them to interact with you?"

"I tried to get them to talk – but they just ended up talking amongst themselves!" He erupted. Obviously, it was frustrating to him, someone who got most of what he wanted because most people wouldn't dare to refuse him. Even though Zayn had his moments, he had a rather mean streak as well.

"I have a suggestion, then." Zayn peered through his dark fringe hopefully at his mother. "Don't try to force it upon them. They are the aristocrats of their world and they are used to it. If you try to make them do it, it won't make them like you any more than they can like Voldemort. If you want to acquire friends, just be yourself and let things fall into place that way. Matters such as these cannot be coerced." He looked contemplative before he broke out into a smile.

"Thanks, mother!" He leaned over and gave her an awkward one-armed hug before standing up, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Ravaena stood up in one smooth move and left, sparing her son from any more "embarrassing actions" on his part, but before she completely cleared from the room, he called out once more. "Mother! I really mean it." His eyes were wide and sincere, the picture of innocence. She merely smiled and gave a small wave before heading out, her heart lighter than it was before.

\----------

Zayn promptly arrived in the Receiving Room at exactly five minutes before one, ready to receive his guests that had cost him one sleepless night. He had taken his mother's words to heart and had donned on one of his more casual outfits, one that he would have worn around the house. Even though it was something he wore when he wasn't receiving guests or doing anything of publicly important, worn under the outer robe made from the softest of cashmere dyed black with silver and gold embroidery was a silk, button-down green shirt and a pair of fitted, dark grey pants complete with a pair of dragon-skin boots. It was an outfit that would, hopefully, get his visitors more relaxed and relate him more to them, as he was sure they owned pieces such as the ones he had on.

At exactly a minute before one, the fire glowed green before a figure was deposited into the room. From the gleaming blond hair, Zayn knew the person was Draco Malfoy, the leader of the group, even before he raised up his head after smoothing out his robes and stepped out of the way before another one of his friends appeared after him. While Zayn was waiting for all seven to arrive, he surveyed the occupants.

They were not as obviously nervous as the last time they had met, but if you knew what to look for, it was distinguishable. Although the Heir to the Malfoy fortune was composed and appeared to be calmly waiting for the rest of his friends to appear, he was standing straight and still, as if not to incur anything upon him – and he made it a point to avoid Zayn's eyes. The next person to come out – a certain boy of some African ancestry, he was sure his name was Blaise Zabini – surveyed the room before he immediately stood beside Draco, his eyes fixed to a point on the far wall. Then came Theodore Nott, a thin boy but with cold eyes, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe, both young men built along the lines of a body guard, and the only two girls in the group, Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode. By the time everyone had arrived, they were all lined up before him, rather like a line of well-trained soldiers, Zayn mused. The only difference was that they had the idea that avoiding his gaze was the best way to avoid his attention. Zayn softly cleared his throat and as if he was a magnet, all seven pairs of eyes shot to him. He noticed a number of them tensed up – for what, he wasn't sure; he decided it was best if he ignored it.

He gave a small bow at the waist. "Everyone, welcome to my home." Everyone before him made a small bow in turn. His eyes caught Draco's eyes looking at him calculatingly, but not without a small amount of fear, before reverting back to their previous blank state. "Please, follow me." Zayn led them to the sitting room down the hall and gestured at them to sit, which they all did as soon as they reached a vacant seat. He nodded to each of them before sitting down.

"So how are we all today?" he tentatively spoke up, knowing that his voice came out strong and confident. The Death Eaters before him, who looked nothing more than incredibly well-mannered and rather affluent young adults, glanced at each other before coming to a silent decision.

"My day has been going rather well – Zayn." Draco was the first to reply, and though it looked like he was trying his best not to stumble upon his words, Zayn had caught the slight hesitation before his name was spoken. Zayn gave a genuine smile, hoping it would encourage the others to speak. And, of course, his wish wasn't granted since all of them deemed it best that they didn't speak, as Gregory and Vincent merely nodded, still looking stiff. Zayn decided to play along; even though they were still being more formal than he liked, it was better than being the only one talking.

"Really, Draco. That's very good to hear."

"I think so too," Draco replied after a second's pause. "And you?"

"I've been busy, but every thing has been going well." Green eyes turned to encompass the rest of his guests. "And you all?"

"It has been good," a boy he was sure was named Theodore Nott answered. His eyes betrayed none of his feelings, but his lips were pressed into a thin line.

"Are you quite sure? You seem a bit – tense."

Theodore nodded rather quickly. "Yes sir. I mean Zayn." Zayn gave a grin before replying with an amused "Are you quite sure?" The brown-eyed boy answered in the positive sense. The Heir just "hmm"ed before moving through the rest of them and receiving relatively similar responses from each. After going through thirty minutes of it, he decided that he had had enough and to get straight to the point. After all, he could take only so much of listening to people who believed the best way to handle the situation was to speak as little as possible.

"I have a proposition." All eyes snapped to his at once and he repressed a sigh. "I propose that we get out of the house and you guys can show me what you guys like to do." Their reactions were amusing – it seemed as if he might as well have sentenced them to death.

"That sounds good." And of course, it was Draco who had to speak first. "Where would you like to go?"

"Did I not say that you guys were to show me what you do for fun?"

"Yes." The word was drawn out longer than necessary.

"Well then! Where do you think I would like to go? I haven't had much time to go out and enjoy myself."

To his surprise, Pansy Parkinson was the one who answered. "I suppose we could go out…" She trailed off and she realized that the Heir's attention was on her, but quickly continued when he slowly lifted an eyebrow. "Have you ever been to Knockturn Alley?" This time, it was Zayn's turn to be surprised.

"I must say I have, though when I am there, I usually don't have time to 'see the sights', if you will." The girl gave a tentative smile.

"So are you open to the idea of going there – with us?"

"I look forward to it." The girl seemed to struggle with herself before she stood up.

"Well, then. What're we waiting for?"

All of her friends were staring between her and their Lord and Master, in all senses of the title, incredulously. In an effort to get them to move and for Pansy to quit resembling a frozen statue, albeit a living one, he stood up and headed towards the door. He looked back when he realized no one was following. "Well? Like Miss Parkinson said, what are we waiting for? Let us go!" And with that, he strode back to the room he had received them in. Listening closely, he heard their soft footsteps behind him and he smiled.

\----------

Once everyone was assembled in Borgin and Burkes, the run-down shop that sold miscellaneous Dark Arts artifacts and merchandise, Draco decided to take the lead.

"Where to first, then?" He looked upon his companions as everyone looked at one another as if they had the answer. "Zayn?" It seemed he had startled the vampire because his eyes had widened, but he looked pleased.

"Anywhere will be fine. I never really browsed any of the places here before – and they all looked so interesting…" he trailed off as his eyes lit up as they spotted something that caught his eye, to which he promptly headed towards. The group followed him like his personal entourage and Draco's head was swimming with questions.

He knew that the Callunde heir was brought up like them, if his manners and his clothing was anything to go by. He also knew that he was a very dangerous person to cross, but he didn't know much beyond that. It appeared he did appear to be even nice, but Draco wasn't sure what to make of it; it could be a lure to get them to trust him as a way of controlling them better, or it could be sincere; perhaps he even had an ulterior motive. Either way, his methods were unconventional, but they were working. Draco found himself warming up to the young man who seemed to be so multi-faceted. He was still amazed at how his eyes lit up at the littlest things, but then he supposed in his line of work, what it implied was most likely true – and it saddened him. Even though Draco himself was raised as an heir, he had friends and he had had fun before. On the other hand, Zayn appeared to be almost uncomfortable around them, as if he didn't know what to do.

Going from shop to shop, however, he did see a part of Zayn's reputation and why it was so renowned. Almost everyone they passed had scurried away from the Heir in fear of being singled out, and that very person did not do anything to stop it. It was as if he was used to it and he even _encouraged_ it. For the few that did not recognize him, his gaze had the same effect on them just as his presence had on those that did.

However, the one thing that surprised Draco the most was when they past the doorway to Muggle London, Zayn had abruptly stopped and stared at the shadowed alcove with furrowed eyebrows and shadows across his face while he was visibly battling with his emotions before pure curiosity appeared on his face.

"What is it?"

"Would you guys mind if we went through there?" As if they weren't sure of what "there" referred to, he pointed a pale finger at the doorway. Everyone looked puzzled but it wasn't as if they would refuse Zayn anything so they all nodded as a group before Zayn led the way. When the door opened, it was creaky and made a rather loud screech before it opened to a scene of many busy muggle pedestrians heading off to where ever it was that they went, oblivious to the group of people standing in a doorway into their world. The Heir appeared to swallow before walking through. Draco made note of it to think about later.

"Zayn?" Millicent's voice broke the stupor their superior was in. He turned around.

"Yes?"

"We don't know where to go here."

Zayn nodded, even though it was more to himself. It was clear that he was still deep within his thoughts. "Of course. I don't expect you guys to know. It's just been a while."

"A while?" It was Theodore.

"A while," was the only response. He slowly shrugged off his outer robe and a second later, it disappeared. "I suppose it would be best to blend in." There was a moment of silence as he waited for everyone to finish taking off anything that would betray them as wizards before he headed out into the streets. Zayn's eyes were strangely blank, especially obvious because of his previous lack of guardedness throughout most of their foray into Knockturn Alley, and his movements mechanic. They had walked two blocks when Zayn abruptly stopped.

"Zayn?" He gave no visible response. "Zayn?" Draco made his way to face him but just as he saw his face, he stopped in shock. The face was drained of color – and that was saying something for a vampire – and his pupils had widened so that his irises were merely thin rings of green. Draco slowly reached up to make sure he was all right, but quickly decided it might not be a good idea so he continued to call out his name. Finally, Zayn came out of his stupor.

"I'm sorry. I – saw someone."

Draco turned his head over to the general direction that Zayn was staring at and about ten feet away, he saw a thin woman with a face that rather resembled a horse and brown hair, clutching at a man's arm. Then, as if she could feel his gaze, her eyes met his and it slowly moved across Zayn's. Then, just like that, her eyes widened in shock and pointed at him. Draco half-expected Zayn to kill her right then and there for being so blatantly disrespectful, but, glancing at him, he only saw that he was still frozen, though he was tense. He looked back at the woman once more when he heard her start speaking. He only caught the words "that boy" before he felt a hand grabbing his arm. Once he saw that it was Zayn, he refrained from cursing the owner of the hand. Zayn looked at him and at the close distance, he saw the eyes drenched in sadness and the fact that they were, in reality, many shades of green.

"I'm sorry." Draco's arm was released and Zayn looked everyone in the eye. "I don't feel up to anything more. We had best get going. I request your appearance at the house again tomorrow at six. I'm almost done with the plan."

And it was like that. The heir quickly left, as if getting away from them as quick as possible, but Draco was sure it had something to do with the woman – and it had to be something big in order to merit a reaction like that from Zayn.


End file.
